


Holy Night・At the Hide Out (英訳）

by Kyokana



Category: Eroica Yori Ai o Komete | From Eroica with Love
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-05
Updated: 2014-08-05
Packaged: 2018-02-11 21:16:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2083425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kyokana/pseuds/Kyokana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After concluding the Christmas ceasefire, Klaus agrees to spend Christmas at Dorian’s castle. What he did not expect was that he was going to spend the Christmas with Dorian – alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holy Night・At the Hide Out (英訳）

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [聖夜・隠れ家にて](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/65982) by BasilLeaves. 



> Warning: There is no explicit sexual expression but there is a description that suggests an unconsented sexual act. 　　

'How many hiding places have you got?’

When the Land Rover entered an unpaved side road, the Major who was sitting at the back of the car, finally opened his mouth unable to bear it any longer. They were heading to a suburb of London to spend a two-day vacation upon concluding the Christmas ceasefire. The castle that was supposed to be just half an hour from Mr L’s residence was apparently the place for work and therefore not suitable for receiving guests during holidays. Instead Bonham drove the car towards London. However, the car that the Major supposed was heading for the Earl’s London residence stopped before entering central London, dropped off Bonham and James who said their Christmas wishes, changed direction and headed back again for the suburbs. Instead of Bonham, the Earl was behind the wheel now. Annoyed by his misunderstanding and his secret fluster show, the Major sulked in silence. The silence continued even after they left the motorway.

‘I am a thief. I have many hiding places.’ The Earl spoke in a serious voice, not moving his eyes from the road.

‘The castle at North Downs is mainly for parties. But I am planning to sell it to the National Trust soon. Did you think we were going to my estate in London? Recently that place has become a place to gather my team for projects, and I usually spend my time at other places.’

‘Evidently so, though it looks like my Leopold is still abandoned in that conceited rose garden.’ 

‘It’s Jamesie who is in charge of the London house. Surprisingly he is gracious about taking care of the roses. The garden helps raise the value of the real estate, you see. Mr. Bonham is living with an older lover. Don’t you think it is terrible? He is so secretive that he still has not introduced his lover to me. As for me, when I am in London I spend my time at various flats I have as it pleases me. You, too, have a flat in Bonn and spend your time there sometimes, don’t you?’

Annoyed, the Major snapped back. ‘How do you know that?’

The Earl chuckled ‘I want to know everything about you. Well, tonight’s hiding place is almost here. I hope you will like the room.’

‘Do spare me a hideous room. Like a room with roses or gilded statues or with absurd decorations.’

‘It’s nothing of the sort.’ The Earl said in a voice that was abruptly without any emotion. The usual sound of mockery was gone and it was such a flat voice that it prompted the Major to be suspicious. In silence again, the headlights of the car picked out a modest mansion between the trees at the end of the gravel path.

\-----

Indeed the room was not bad at all. The single bed was not too shamefully soft. Quilted green-grey brocade covers were folded down, revealing pristine white linen sheets. A bookcase over the desk offered gun and military magazines, recent industry books on airplanes and surveillance technology and a set of antique late 19th century German compendia about natural history. Dark green carpet gentled the oak-parquet floor, and a tapestry of a hunting-scene covered one wall. By the window, a five-foot-tall dracaena in a bronze planter brandished dark-green leaves like swords. The furniture was all dark and solid. The en-suite bathroom was clean and simple decorated in white and moss green, and there was a brand new soap that smelled like fern leaves in the wood after the rain. The thorough simplicity of the bedroom was more masculine than anything Klaus had associated with Dorian Red Gloria.

‘Well?’ asked the Earl quietly, now leaning on the door-frame. 

This was done long ago, Klaus realised slowly- and regularly maintained. The plant was healthy and old, the magazines current, the fresh sheets smelled of lavender. He made a place in the center of his world, for me. 

'I approve. This is more than adequate.’

Answering without turning his head, it occurred to the Major why the Earl had spoken so flatly earlier. He was trying to behave in good faith. The Major cursed himself for noticing. Suddenly, he no longer felt like looking at the Earl’s face. (Go away quickly) he thought. (I don’t even know why I was taken in to accept the invitation in the first place. No, I just thought I could stroke my stolen tank in that garden in his London house after a long time.)

Even so, the Major gave the room a thorough sweep for monitoring devices. It was clean - even the telephone beside the bed, but he was flustered to find a Bible in German in the drawer of that bedside table and shut it. 

The Earl who had been observing all this has said in a calm voice. ‘You never stop being an agent.’

The Major again answered without turning his head. ‘There are lots of guys out there who would want to get hold of the information from me. Your name is in every country’s intelligence files as a NATO collaborator. And there are many who are mistaken that you and I are in a cooperative relationship.’ Unexpectedly it ended up sounding like that he was not suspicious of the Earl, and thus the Major clicked his tongue inwardly.

It looked like the Earl was not bothered. ‘Let’s celebrate Christmas belatedly. There are no such things as TV or audio in this place. We’ll light a fire in the fire place; eat something light and drink a little.’

‘You don’t have to go overboard. I’ll just drink, eat, sleep and then go back home.’ ‘I don’t have much here. A conversation with you will be the treat. It’s very rare to have an occasion to talk with you without it being a shouting match.’

(What is there to talk with him now? After seeing this room.) The Major risked a sideways glance at the Earl but the other man was already heading for the living room.

\-----

‘Major, can you please start the fire? I will prepare some food.’ Bringing food and drinks from the kitchen to the dining table, the Earl called out to the Major who was inspecting the living room for monitoring devices.

‘Because you said your castle was close by, I went along with it. It’s a different story with a mansion in such a rural area as this.’ the Major said snappishly as he recognised the Mosel green bottles lined up on the table. The living room next to the dining room was not too large nor too small, and furnished in the pleasant, rustic fashion. The Major thought it was impressive that there was no frivolous furnishings considering the Earl’s taste but he did not utter that thought.

‘Don’t you like it?’ The Earl asked back with a serious face, while smearing sour cream on the whole grain crackers. 

Had he given him a playful answer, the Major was prepared to shout back immediately, but he mumbled upon the Earl’s unexpected tone of voice. The living room and the bedroom were in fact not badly decorated. Comfort was another matter though. The variety of alcohol lined up in the cabinet was entirely satisfactory, too. It was just the Earl being very serious and the fact that there was no one else which made the Major feel uncomfortable. He decided to change the subject. 

'What happened to the cronies?

'I spend a lot of time here on my own these days. This mansion is totally my private place and even Mr. Bonham has not been here. I was going to shut myself up in here until the New Year anyway, as I don’t have any family. I kind of got bored with the game of being surrounded by admirers or waited upon by young men. But don’t worry, my team is still alive and kicking and is as able as your subordinates.’

‘Able, indeed.’ Smiling wryly remembering the sounds of joy from his subordinates upon declaring the Christmas vacation for the first time after so many years, the Major started to place logs into the fireplace. They are probably spending their holiday with their families too. There might be some who are placing logs to the fire for the first time in a long time. For the Major, too, lighting the fire was his favourite task since childhood. Apparently it was the same for his stern father, so essentially the father was in charge, and the Major was only allowed to do it when his father was in a very good mood. Remembering the young days when he excitedly watched his father light the first fire at the start of winter, the Major felt a little guilty for not having called his father out of stubbornness before he’d been called instead.

The modern air con was heating up the whole mansion moderately but the comfort of the flames in the fireplace on the Christmas night was exceptional. The Earl laid out the dishes he had prepared quickly near the sofa, and chose the yellow-labeled Schloss Thorn from the several chilled Mosel wines. ‘Let’s start with some wine. How about it? Frying is a hassle so I cannot prepare your favourite dish, but isn’t this not bad for a scratch meal in rural England?’ On the large plate there were slices of roast beef, prosciutto, pate, caviar, smoked salmon, anchovies, olives, as well as some vegetables such as tomatoes and onions, and plenty of basil and flat-leaf parsley. In the next dish there were fresh berries such as wildberries and raspberries. The idea was to put these on the crackers with sour cream and wash them down with the sour white.

‘Eating and drinking are one of the pleasures I cannot forego.’ Passing the light green wine glass with a fruity smell to the Major and holding the other in his hand, the Earl reclined on the sofa debauchedly. The Major snorted and sat back in the arm chair and smelt the glass. Then the two saluted each other’s glass, moistened their lips with wine, and reached for the dishes at the same time.

‘The distillery of this wine is owned by relatives on my fathers’ side of the family. The head is an eccentric guy who has changed back the process of the distillery to the Roman era…Hey, this sour cream is not bad for an English make.’ The Major said not altogether displeased after grabbing the first bite without reserve. 

‘I have it delivered from the local farm. You like them a little sour, be it wine, bread or yoghurt. I prefer something a little sweeter. Perhaps our taste in life itself is like that.’

The fire in the fireplace and the memory of his father appeared to have unusually loosened the armour of the Major’s emotions. 

‘I want to be begged off from a sweet life. But today’s special. It’s Christmas. If you like sweet things I will make you some. Do you have any bread that is not sour? We will need butter and also some sugar and cinnamon. And we need a long fork.’ 

At the Major’s offer, the Earl widened his eyes, then smiled blissfully.

‘I have some rye bread for breakfast but I’m not sure if we have some normal bread. I think we had cinnamon. For baking apples.’

Saying so, the Earl stood up and disappeared into the kitchen, but quickly returned in front of the fire with the Major’s requested ingredients.

‘I don’t want you to burn the silver fork so please use this one.’ The Major pretended not to notice the Earl’s smile, and retrieved the ingredients. He smeared butter on to slices of brown bread with nuts, sprinkled cinnamon and sugar, and nipped with two long forks. Then he held them over the fire in the fireplace. 

‘Cook and I used to make this, on cold winter mornings when I was visiting from school. Just this way, Cook never had use for fancy toasters those days.’

The Major deftly eased the makeshift fork, along with its crisping burden, over the fire. Bread browned. Sugar, caught by flame, caramelised to dark gold. The scent of cinnamon was lulling, a warm smell that tickled their nasal passages. Noticing the golden curls of the Earl peering in from behind, the Major held back an unexpected shiver from the sweetness of the smell and atmosphere.

‘If you hurry to bake them, you will fail. You have to do it in a leisurely fashion. Hey, do you have a cigarette? Under these circumstances, the one like paper you were smoking would do, too.’

‘I quit smoking. But your brand is in your bedroom. Open the drawer of the bedside table. There are some hidden underneath the Bible.’

‘I am busy now. I cannot leave. You go get it.’

‘It’s impolite to order, Major. While you are here the bedroom is your territory. I shan't enter it.’

He did not feel like returning to that bedroom. So he gave up on a cigarette and decided to occupy himself with this fondly remembered food.

‘Does it not remind you of Christmas?’ The Major asked. 

The Earl received a slice of cinnamon toast from the Major’s hand and smelling it, thought hard. ‘Winter holidays, yes. Christmas in my family was always a little strained so not very pleasant. I’d sneak downstairs after the governess put me to bed, and share the wassail with the servants, in the kitchen. At times like that the servants baked something like this a lot.’ The Earl said so and had a piece of toast.

‘I was always fond of the kitchen, too.’ The Major admitted, just before he crunched into some toast himself. ‘The people whom father invited to the Schloss were almost always old. No children. Before I was sent away to school, I used to long for someone my own age, to talk to. Play with –‘ he stopped, and the Earl could hear the blush starting to colour the Major’s voice. 

‘It would have been fun for little Klaus, I think,’ said the Earl, sensing the proper response. ‘I’m sure the Schloss has wonderful nooks and crannies only children could reach or appreciate.’  
　  
‘Ja!’ Klaus regaled Dorian with stories of an ancient castle and a lonely child forced to make up his own entertainments: ‘—There was a back stair connecting all the floors in the main house –‘, ‘I made a rope-swing in an elm-tree in the back garden and the branch fell off –‘ 

The Major was unusually talkative. The Earl smiled again satisfactorily.

‘I could imagine the child and the youth that you had been – lanky and coltish. I wanted to see you like that once.’

‘I can easily imagine what you were like as a kid. You looked like some twittery Edwardian children’s-book illustration with golden curls.’ 

‘For you, it is an accurate description.’ The Earl laughed his head off. ‘That’s right, I was a beautiful doll. I had three older sisters and I was their dress-up doll. My habit of cross-dressing stems from that. Not sure whether not being the only child is a good idea.’

The Earl licked crumbs of sugar from the cinnamon toast off his lower lip.

‘My parents weren't getting along and the atmosphere at home was extremely cold. Upon their divorce, my three sisters were taken charge by my mother and I was left with my father. That’s the start of my debauched life. My father, too, was a homosexual, and he was not the discreet type. Many of the guests my father had brought were interested in attracting the attention of the beautiful son, so I have learnt those tactics in practice since my early teens…pardon me, this is not an interesting topic for you. Oh, the first bottle is empty. What shall we drink next? Wehlener Sonnenuhr?’

‘The inside of my mouth is sticky with the cinnamon toast. I’ll have Fritz Haag or Hospitien if you have them. If not, any German dry white is fine.’ 

‘You like domestic products through and through.’

‘We have to support the local industry. The framework of Euro is supported by Germany. The weight of responsibility is different from a certain country that is unwilling to give up Sterling Pound.’

‘As the Queen’s subjects, we would like to draw a line from the Continent. Let me see, I only have a half bottle of Fritz Haag. Is that ok with you? I would like to drink something sweet.’

‘Fine. Sweet wine is outside my jurisdiction.’

Opening a delicate and slender ice wine bottle for himself, the Earl continued talking. ‘Like you, I did not spend my boyhood with friends of my own age. When my mother and sisters were around, it was just girls who would visit the castle and I have seen too much of the bad side of women then. Since my parents’ divorce, my father used to bring home friends who were rather dubious, like artists or their patrons, or no one who was making honest living. But while they would rig me, they taught me plenty on how to enjoy life, such as how to appreciate art and history, poems and music. I also learned the art of stealing at that time.’ 

The Major was listening to the Earl’s story, while munching. He pretended he liked the sour cream but in fact it did not feel bad quietly listening to the Earl talk. His boyhood was totally different from his, but he felt like there were similarities between the two.

‘So that’s how it is.’

‘I see. So if one grows up like that, a morally questionable pervert like this will come along.’

‘That’s right, it was inevitable. Thank you for your understanding. ‘The Iron Klaus’ was inevitable, too, I guess. After all, it’s ‘The Steel Papa’.’

‘Shut up!’

The dishes were almost empty. Outside the window it looked like the snow has started to fall. Tomorrow morning there might be snow as far as the eye can see. White Christmases are beautiful but the Major realised that meant he might be stuck in the house alone with the Earl. Filled with a little horror, he drank up the second wine.

‘Enough of the food. Let’s change the drinks.’

‘Would you like dry gin?’

‘I stopped drinking Gordons. You know why.’ The Major gave a dirty look to the Earl. (The biggest failure in my life that I was jobbed by this damned idiot was alcohol-related. It was a long time ago.)

The Earl stuck his tongue out. ‘Sorry. As for gin, I only have Bombay Sapphire here.’

‘I cannot drink from such a flippantly-coloured bottle.’

‘Please don’t say that. That’s the colour of my eyes.’

‘Idiot! I lost my appetite even more!’

The Major also said he does not drink vodka if it was Russian. Naturally. ‘Then, which would you prefer, brandy or scotch?’

‘I’ll have scotch. I will leave you to choose the brand.’

‘There is no brand. I have this, too, delivered directly from the distillery. It’s single malt. It’s not on the market. It’s got a peculiar flavor.’

‘I don’t mind. I don’t usually drink scotch so I can’t taste it.’

‘What a shame’ The Earl handed the Major a glass with brown liquid inside. ‘What would you like as a chaser? Water or soda?’ 

‘None. Stomach will be full.’

Then the Earl reseated himself, and rolled the brandy glass back and forth in his hand. ‘Like you told me ages ago, I will just sip something like this.’

‘Suits you, the English aristocrat.’

‘Your family, too, is of a high social standing. Who is going to inherit the Schloss? I suppose my title will be inherited by my sister’s child in the ordinary course of things.’ 

‘Probably my cousin’s family line. My father’s brother’s.’

‘Aren’t you going to get married?’

‘Stop the topic that will make the drinks unappetizing.’

The Earl sat silent and sipped the brandy. The fire in the fireplaces popped. The Major poured his second glass. The smoky flavour of the unfamiliar brown alcohol was a little unbalanced, and it certainly was an acquired taste. (Does the Earl drink such alcohol when he’s on his own? And since when have we started talking about these kinds of things?)

The two of them kept drinking in silence. The snow appeared to be piling. 

‘I want to listen to your story. You made friends at the boarding school?’

The Major murmured. ‘The colour of my hair was unusual at the gymnasium. I was a ‘Black Lamb’ when I was a kid.’

‘Lamb? Not a wild boar?’ The Earl made fun of it.

‘Black Lamb. The teacher called me that.’ Continuing on with the story, the Major smelled the smoky scent in the glass several times.

‘At my first posh school, I got expelled for kicking the priest’s balls who tried to molest me. The next one was a rougher school. Many senior students came onto me. I mean, in a sexual way. Even teachers rallied around, too. It was the Latin teacher who called me the ‘Black Lamb’. I still don’t understand why they all came flocking around me.’

‘Of-course it was because you were attractive. I can understand that very well because I was at a boarding school, too. I think we probably spent a very similar school life. Only the way of dealing it was completely different.’ 

‘You recognised desire from the early age.’ 

‘Probably so. Although, rather than to recognise it, to me it was self-evident from the start. My desire and others’ desires. And by the time I went to the boarding at the age of 12, I already…knew it. Initiated by men who were older than my father. That’s why whatever happened at the boarding school, whatever they did to me, I was unshaken.’

‘Rather than a golden lamb, the beautiful blond boy was in fact a terrible carnivore.’

‘You talk bad. But it’s very true. When I was young, sexual appetite was like food - it was not enough how much I ate. I did not have the luxury of keeping my hands off the treat in front of me like now.’ The Earl averted his eyes from the Major.

‘You are drunk.’

The Earl glanced at the Major. ‘I know you are not interested in men. You buy women from time to time?’

The Major looked at the Earl pulling a face.

The Earl nonchalantly drank up the glass in his hand, and continued. ‘But it’s not like you bring them back to your flat in Bonn. You don’t seem to have relationships with non-professional women either, so why did you buy that flat in the first place?’

It was unpleasant to be pried about his personal stuff. The Major decided to retaliate a little.

‘Your conducts reached my ears, too. You had a fling with a black-haired Austrian man in the summer and parted really badly.’

The Earl looked at the Major in a sincere surprise. ‘How do you know?’

‘I told you earlier. Your name is known in every country’s intelligence departments. As my collaborator. The guy was an agent of ----. He tried to get information about my missions from you and someone else who’s seen it had informed me out of raillery.’

‘Ah, I see. Of-course. He was too much like you. He spoke English with some German accent like you, he was a heavy smoker, forceful and selfish. He was pretty rough but I enjoyed very much including that, too. It’s not bad being treated rough like that in bed for a change.’

The Earl looked up and down the Major’s body appraisingly, then lastly he stared at the Major’s eyes from the front and added:

‘But his eyes weren't green.’

With drunkenness and the apparent provocation, he lost his cool and the Major finally took an unprecedented step forward.

‘You still seriously thinking you want something with me?’

As soon as he said it, his hair all over stood on end with regret. He had no idea how he should react when whatever answer came back. The Earl, too, was staring at the Major, obviously surprised. It appeared that that kind of reaction from the Major was outside the scope of his assumption. The Earl was looking at the Major with his mouth shut, but after a while he dropped his eyes to the empty glass as if he’s given up. That hardly happened between them that the Earl would be the one to avert his eyes. In most cases, it was the Major who forcibly tore off the Earl’s entwined gaze.

The Earl shrugged still staring at the glass, but it was obvious that it was more of an act rather than a natural gesture. ‘I have graduated the youth of ‘All or Nothing’, Major. If something happens between us, I will lose you the next instant. And I don’t want to lose you. Will this answer do?’ 

The Major did not say anything.

‘I think it’s natural that you don’t feel comfortable with my sexual orientation. However, this is me and from the start it was self-evident. I am sorry.’

Without noticing both bottles were more than half empty. The Earl put an empty glass and stood up. ‘Now, I think I am really drunk. Will you excuse me.’

‘Suit yourself. I will drink a little more.’

‘Good night. Little Klaus. Please sleep in tomorrow.’

‘I never sleep in.’

‘I will probably rise late so help yourself to breakfast. Feel free to read any books in the library but most of them are art books and maybe not many books that you’d like. Ah, there are few books on post-World War European history. I studied it as I wanted to know about your work. I am not good at reading German so there are books only in English and French, but look for them if you like. If you want to move around but cannot go outside because of snow, it would be helpful if you could water the roses in the greenhouse at the back, as the caretaker will not come in till next week now.’

Time to go back to that bedroom. The Major thought vaguely in his drunken head.

\-----

In the middle of the night -----

 

‘Stop, please stop! Aaahhh!’

After a few hours light sleep, there was already no intoxication left. The Major stood up in his professional swiftness, adhered to the wall holding a gun in his hand, and went out to the corridor. The Earl’s bedroom door at the end of the corridor remained closed. There was no further sound. As long as it received radio it was possible to specify a position using GPS these days, but both the Earl and the Major had their mobiles switched off even before they set off. The Major thought of a surveillance device attached to the Earl’s Land Rover, but that possibility seemed low. Carefully advancing the corridor, the Major busily considered the comparison of his current situation with his recent missions. 

Upon the sound of the door opening, the Earl turned to face it. He was sitting up on the bed and was breathing heavily while his hands were wrapping his neck as if he were strangling himself. 

(Did he just have a bad dream?)

But the Earl’s facial expression was too pitiful to just leave there and then. And from the position of the Earl’s hands, the Major knew exactly the nature of his nightmare. (You reap what you sow.) Feeling vindictive, the Major stepped into the Earl’s bedroom. 

‘Forget it without further ado. I told you. There was no gunpowder inside the collar. Just a detonator. When the time came the collar would have come off. You might have burned a little but that was all there is to it. It was cruel but it was just a joke.’ 

He stood by the bed and scowled. He meant it as a small revenge for the earlier exchanges in front of the fireplace. The Earl’s breathing has not gone back to normal yet, but as the Major started to say something else, he looked up at the Major and cut him off. It was a bloodcurdling low voice.

‘Stop trying to square it off like that. You may think highly of Louis Cendrier as an agent but not me.’ 

‘It was your own fault. A sheep trying to meddle in with a wolf.’

‘…I appreciate your rescue then. I was not sure if you would come for me. Ah, I am sorry I woke you. Thank you for your concern. Good night Major.’

The Earl waved his hand above his head, still looking down. To be told to go at midnight did not feel good to the Major and he felt like being a little more mean.

‘What did Cendrier do to you?’

‘Nothing.’ The Earl said bluntly with his head down.

‘You were put on a collar, tied up, and confined, and ‘nothing’? You said last night that you don’t mind being treated rough?’ That question evidently crossed the line from the usual Major but the Earl did not hit back on that.

‘What if there was something? Is that fun for you? Or are you going to get angry? At whom?’

The Earl looked as if he was trembling a little. His curls were damp and disheveled from the sweat of the nightmare. The fact that he was in an advantageous position made the Major more fluent.

‘That day, you could not walk properly. The day at the snow-covered mountain.’

The Earl did not look towards the Major. ‘I walked. I followed you around the snowy mountain.’ His shoulders’ tremble got worse.

The Major further argued vehemently. ‘No, you did not have the agility nor the stamina of the usual impertinent thief. You could not even climb a rural church roof. It was not the level of poor physical condition simply as the result of skipping one meal.’ While the Major continued talking, he wondered himself why he was being so persistent. 

It appeared that the Earl has changed his attitude. He gave the Major a quick sideways glance and raised an eyebrow. ‘…What do you want me to say, Major.’

(This is starting to get strange) the Major came back to himself. (I stepped in too much. This sort of conversation is not my intention.) When he felt like he came to a dead-end, he remembered the Earl’s outright provocation last night. (This man does not think anything of it. He is just making fun of me.) The Major pushed his words out almost suicidally.

‘Most likely you were doing it all night, with that man.’

Words cannot be taken back. The Major helplessly looked at how the stone he has thrown into the water gradually rippled wider on the water surface. The Earl’s eyes froze and the tremble stopped. Eventually the Earl breathed in deeply, and let out a dry laugh. ‘You are thoroughly cruel, Major. I did not realise that little Klaus was the type who’d fumble with the butterfly he’s captured and pluck its wings.’ 

Then he turned around and looked up at the Major’s face directly. ‘I found it surprising when Mr. Bonham told me about it. Apparently the photos Cendrier has sent you guys were awfully discreet ones. He was taking so many of them.’ 

(Maybe I came here to let him know this) the Major thought.

‘He sent the indiscreet ones by another mail. Addressed to me personally.’ The Earl’s body stiffened; nonetheless he did not change the facial expression all the same. 

(With the light from the corridor as a back light, he cannot read my facial expression.) Thinking that, the Major let the words go on. ‘That was the first time that I nearly abandoned my mission.’ 

The Earl’s face was distorted as if he were smiling through his tears. However, the moistness from the eyes that were blinking restlessly disappeared quickly and those eyes flared up like a pale flame in the dark. The Earl straightened his back and directly looked back at the Major’s eyes. 

‘Were you surprised? That was really good. I was surprised myself that I would discover a new pleasure like that at my age. I really got aroused when he has done such terrible things to me and in amidst of the fear of being killed. By that young man who is nothing but a beautiful face. I, the old fox, got aroused to the core of my body that I even still dream about it. What he’s done to me, you know it if you've seen the photos? How about the scars on my body?’

The Earl dropped his nightwear from his shoulders and opened his arms. The Major has noticed that the Earl stopped wearing low-necked clothes. From the chest to the sides there were many traceries of knife wounds running, and some of them seemed to have reached the back. The scars were running on the shoulders and the upper arms as well. The knife cuts were pretty deep, the blade must have been used slanted to scrape off the fresh. There was a constant width to the scars, and even in the dark it was visible that the welts were bulging sadistically in shiny reddish colour. 

(None of these was in the photos I have seen----!)

‘He carefully put these scars so as not to damage any tendon or muscle, making sure not to leave any functional after effect. The person who did this said so himself.’

The Earl’s eyes held a provocative light, and looked hard at the Major.

‘The purpose was to inflict pain on me, and to leave long-lasting scars on my body.’

The Earl was following each scar with his finger, and started to account the circumstances in details how it has been inflicted. What kind of knife he has used. What Cendrier said then. How he himself wriggled his body.

‘The lower half of the body is much worse.’

This time the Earl continued without stirring an inch. In his pretentious, conceited Oxbridge pronunciation, the Earl started to explain the details that can’t be borne to be heard.

‘Stop it.’

‘And Cendrier used …one with spikes…'

‘Stop it.’

‘How ever much I cried and begged…’

‘I told you to stop!’

‘…And once it is finished, that man wiped my blood and my other stuff ever so kindly, cleansed all over my body carefully, and after he has stopped the bleeding and took care of my wounds, he dressed me while showering me with kisses, tied me to the pillar outside the church with my hands bound behind my body, and we both waited for you. As a result I thoroughly enjoyed it. Probably as much as Cendrier did.’

Then the Earl spat out with a cruel smile on his face. ‘And where are you keeping them, those photos? You couldn't throw them away, could you?’

Receiving an unexpected arrow that the Earl shot, the Major was shocked. The Earl has hit the nail on the head. He could not throw away the photos. But they could not be seen again. That’s why he has sealed them, and without anyone at the Scholss knowing had a room prepared in town and stowed them away at the back of the closet. Even the memory itself of the photos were put under unconsciousness, and forced to forget until it was pointed out now.

But in those photos, none of this bloody sexual liaison he just described was captured. (What I saw were just several photos of – wearing a collar, in an impossible position, even twisting his face, was still beautiful, with blue eyes and golden curls that arouse my sordid desire, noble and debauched---) 

The Earl laughed proudly. Roared with laughter. ‘But why, it is worth saying. It seems that I was right. Are you sure you are not interested in men?’

‘Shut up!’ The Major slapped him. The Earl did not try to dodge.

‘…you are a nasty piece of work. So much so as to be nauseating…! That’s why I hate you so much!’

The Earl smiled. The flame in his eyes suddenly disappeared, and his smile became strangely kind and sad. ‘…You know that the opposite of like is not ‘hate’, Major. The opposite of like is ‘apathy’. You say you hate me so much. That’s enough for me. Major, please go back to your bedroom. I don’t want to lose you.’ 

But the Major could not move.

‘I have laid out all my cards on the table, Major. It is high time your turn to choose. But you never ever pick a card. That was fine with me, too, because I did not want to lose you. But perhaps that is not possible anymore.’

The Major understood the Earl’s words correctly. He understood and still could not move.

‘Here is the place where I dream.’

The Earl said like he was singing. He raised his chin, and exposed his beautiful throat that was unscarred.

‘This was the place where I dream of you. Dreaming of you sleeping in that room. Even in the dream, I do not go to your bedroom, You do not come visit me, either. We are probably like that forever. Please go back to the bedroom, Major. In the morning I will take you to Heathrow. And then, probably all’s over.’ 

The Major staggered unexpectedly. The deep feeling of loss, even the sense of defeat felt at a failed mission did not compare, and it pushed him back towards the door. The Earl was watching the Major receding. As if to lament the last of the afterglow. 

Not being able to take his eyes off the Earl, the Major reached the exit of the bedroom, hands behind his back. (Once I go out to the corridor and shut the door, I can go back to my room as if nothing has happened. To that bedroom? The bedroom he has prepared for me, the room where he is forever absent?) The Major’s body was already out of the Earl’s bedroom and was about to shut the door. (Once dawn breaks, everything will go back to normal. As if nothing has happened. No, that’s not it. Not everything will go back to as it was before. Everything will end, if I shut this door.) The door was about to shut this moment.

(If I shut the door, you will lose me. Because I am going to lose you.)

The Major kicked the door, making a sound. With wide strides he went back to the Earl’s bed, and put his gun down on the bedside table. Then he resolved himself and threw himself into the sea of golden curls. On the soft and slippery bed that was completely different to his, he lost himself for a while in the fight that differed much from the missions, put up a poor fight, and gasped. And in no time, he was pinned down on the submerging mattress, and heard the curls and blue eyes that look down on him say with a pert smile:‘You finally arrived.’ 

 

\-----

 

It looked like it snowed a lot overnight, as the branches of the trees that can be viewed from the window were bent beneath the burden of snow in a morning light. When the Major woke up, next to the gun on the side table, there was a small-labeled Veuve Clicquot's round bottle and a pair of champagne glasses that held a slightly green-coloured liquid. One of the glasses was half empty. 

‘Morning Major. You overslept.’ It looked as if the Earl had watered the roses and returned to the bedroom. Pronounced scent tickled the Major. Handing over a single stem of rose that was just picked, the Earl smiled audaciously. The smile so immoral and infuriating, and damned attractive. The eyes and lips full of mischief approached him and the lush curls that were almost suffocating filled the Major’s view completely. When the opportunity came, the Major held the Earl’s wrists and dragged him underneath his body in one go. 

The sound of the snow that fell during the night falling off from the branches echoed intermittently here and there in the wood.

Leaving the completely surrendered Earl, the Major got up, drank up the lukewarm champagne ungracefully, and opened roughly the drawer of the bedside table. Underneath the decoratively bound Bible in Latin, as expected there was an opened cigarette package of the Major’s favourite brand.

‘Of-course you've been smoking. Quitting is fruitless.’

The Earl started giggling while his face still sank in the pillow. The Major lit his first cigarette.

‘If you have energy to laugh, one more session…no breakfast, or rather lunch is first. I am starving.’

 

That Christmas, the Earl and the Major assured themselves after all that they will not lose anything that they both feared they would. 

 

END

 

\-----

 

Many thanks for the countless and glorious (I love this adjective!) Eroica fanfictions that preceded me. They were marvelous enough to inspire me to write my own first fanfiction, which is the above. I hereby declare that I borrowed some settings and scenes from the following brilliant and attractive stories: 

1) "Good Old-Fashioned" by Heather Sparrows:  
　　　Dorian is planning to sell his castle in North Downs to the National Trust.  
2) "The Three Kisses" by Beth Minster:  
　　　The tank Dorian stole from Klaus is kept in the rose garden of the Dorian's estate.  
3) "Evening Star" by Filigree:  
　 　　Dorian prepared Klaus's bedroom without notice. I also borrowed the solid description of the room's details and its excellent Japanese translation provided by my predecessor.  
4) "Cinnamon Toast" by Filigree:  
　 　　Klaus makes cinnamon toast for Dorian and himself, then talks about his own lonely childhood. I borrowed quite a lot of details since they were almost as affecting as the canon.  
5) "It Cuts Both Ways" by Karen Colohan:  
　 　　Seeing Dorian wounded both physically and mentally through willing/unwilling sex using knives with a third person makes Klaus finally cross the Rubicon.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation originally posted on http://relishschokolade.blog.fc2.com/blog-entry-27.html


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